


Discovery

by Setcheti



Series: Outward Bound [2]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Bigotry & Prejudice, Genetic Discrimination, Light Angst, M/M, Telepathic Bond, Vulcan Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5443949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setcheti/pseuds/Setcheti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things had gone back to being eerily quiet, almost like the quadrant was holding its breath, waiting for something to blow, and Larabee feared that when it did, whatever it was, it was going to be big.  But he never would have guessed that the fuse would be lit on his own ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discovery

Chris sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his short blond hair, frustrated. “So it’s there but we can’t do anything about it, Jim?”

“Unfortunately not,” Kirk told him, shaking his head. The two captains were on a secure transmission frequency that Dunne guaranteed even the devil himself couldn’t break in on. “Spock has gone over every angle and come up with the same thing; it’s not a conspiracy, it’s blackmail plain and simple and whoever is in back of it has got the Federation by the short hairs. We go screwing around with the balance that’s in place without knowing how to beat their technology and we could be signing Earth’s death warrant – Vulcan’s too.”

“Damn.”

“I agree, Chris. Spock brought Scotty in on it to try to figure out the stationary high warp jump, but neither one of them is holding out much hope.” The younger captain made a face. “Scotty told me it was impossible and _meant_ it.”

Larabee chuckled when Kirk did. “And the universe didn’t end.”

“No, but it really yanked the rug out from under him. I can see him questioning everything he knows about warp theory now, trying to find the loophole.” Kirk leaned in closer to the pickup. “How’s everyone holding up on your end?”

“We’ve had close calls before,” Larabee told him, waving one hand in a dismissive gesture. “Tanner was the one I was most worried about, but Ezrastas seems to be helping him through it all right. Not sure why that is, though – and I’m having to fight Jackson tooth and nail on it, he wants Tanner in for counseling, insists that my first officer is just teaching him to repress the whole thing.”

Kirk shook his head. “Chris…” He looked at a loss for a second, as though he knew what he wanted to say but not how to say it. Then he apparently made up his mind. “Chris, I don’t want to come across like I’m poking my nose in where it doesn’t belong…but I talked to Bones about that situation you’ve got with Jackson and your first officer and he says you’ve got a potentially dangerous situation there, explosive even. He’s concerned by the fact that someone with an established prejudice like that slipped through the psychological screening and got posted as chief medical officer on a starship, and he’s afraid that Lieutenant Commander Ezrastas’ reaction to the doctor could mean he has good reason to be afraid of Jackson. Bones called in a favor or two and checked the personnel files, and Ezrastas didn’t have that sickbay phobia before being posted to the _Outward Bound_.”

“Damn,” Larabee swore again. He didn’t need this, he really didn’t. “I appreciate your asking McCoy, Jim,” he reassured the younger man. “I probably should have asked you to ask him when I first noticed there was a problem, but I was sure all Jackson needed was time to get used to Ezrastas and then he’d get over it. I’ll keep a closer eye on the situation from here on out. Can I call McCoy if I think it’s getting out of hand?”

“Any time – he told me to have you do that anyway.” Kirk leaned forward, closer to the screen. “And I’m not telling you this officially, Chris, but the _Enterprise_ is going to be hanging around this side of Federation space for a while, just in case. Those needle ships have never gone after a Starfleet vessel before, and I’ve got it on…high authority that your incident report shook some people. Spock and I suspect that the ‘treaty’ may be breaking down, and they want as much firepower as they can get away with within shouting distance in case it happens again. So if you so much as glimpse a needle ship, it’s Priority One and we’ll come running.”

“Appreciate that, Jim.” And he did, more than he could express. “I guess we’d better get off the emergency channel before someone gets suspicious, but thanks for getting back to me so fast. If we come up with anything else on this end you’ll be the first to know.”

“Ditto,” Kirk assured him. “Good luck, Chris. Kirk out.”

Chris flicked his own end of the connection closed and sat back in his chair with a sigh. He complained about the _Enterprise_ and her captain a lot, but there was no question in his mind that the man was one of the best in the fleet – even if he was younger than half the people on either ship. Chris couldn’t have imagined commanding a ship at 36, much less commanding the Federation’s flagship, but Kirk had been doing it for two years and seemed born to the job. He snorted; Kirk could have it. _Enterprise_ was also the fleet’s premiere first-contact vessel, and Chris wouldn’t want that job no matter how much you paid him. He wasn’t the explorer type, never really had been. Just being in space was enough for him.

 

On the other side of the ship, close to Main Engineering, Commander Tanner’s cabin stood empty, the bed neatly made and obviously unslept in despite the late hour. A door in the bulkhead stood ajar, however, and on the other side the atmosphere was anything but utilitarian. The décor was Spartan yet exotic, all dark colors and rich, intricately patterned fabrics, with candles burning warmly here and there and a small brazier filling the room with a faint, spicy haze of incense. The bed here was wider than the one in Tanner’s quarters, but the two bodies that occupied it were so closely intertwined as to make the extra space seem fairly superfluous.

Vin smiled, running his fingers through his lover’s soft hair. No matter what arrangement they fell asleep in, Ezrastas always gravitated to a position with one delicately pointed ear lying over Vin’s heart. He said that he found the sound soothing, but Tanner suspected it was more than that – a suspicion borne out by their link. The measured cadence of the human’s heartbeat made the Vulcan feel secure, let him know he was safe, and God knew safe and secure wasn’t something Ezrastas had had very much chance to feel in his life. Vin felt privileged beyond measure that it was something he could provide to this man he loved so very, very much.

He only wished he could do more, wished they didn’t have to hide so much. Not long after they’d both been assigned to the _Outward Bound_ he’d informed Larabee that Ezrastas’ quarters would need to be closer to Engineering because of the conduits he’d have to reroute to accommodate the Vulcan’s need for a warmer-than-normal cabin. Cutting the connecting door in the bulkhead between their quarters had come next, allowing them to spend time together without anyone on board being the wiser. Not that Vin thought the captain would have a problem with their relationship at this point, and probably the rest of the crew wouldn’t either…but the engineer was pretty sure Dr. Jackson wouldn’t be accepting of it at all, and if he found out the results could be disastrous for Ezrastas and devastating for Vin himself.

Vin was honest with himself that he didn’t much like the ship’s chief medical officer. Having spent most of his life on board a salvage ship, having a close familial relationship with the rest of the crew was normal for him; Jackson, however, was nosy even by those standards and didn’t know how to back off when asked. And, he hated Vulcans. Vin didn’t trust him around his lover, with good reason – several good reasons, in fact.

They’d had an…incident in Sickbay not long after the Outward Bound had taken up her patrol. Ezrastas had been thrown out of his seat on the bridge during an encounter with a raider ship and Larabee had sent him down to Sickbay dripping green blood from a long, messy gash in his arm. Tanner had walked in while Jackson was repairing the damage and had all but exploded. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’ to him?!”

The doctor had scowled at him. “What does it look like, I’m fixing his arm…”

“With no painkiller?” Tanner’s face had gone red. “What kind of sadistic bastard are you, Jackson?!”

“He doesn’t need painkiller, he’s a Vulcan,” the doctor had snapped back. “They don’t…”

“Ez does – maybe if you’d been payin’ attention you’d have known that.” The engineer had put his hand on the first officer’s stiff shoulder, and looking up Jackson had seen for the first time that his reluctant patient was not sitting there stoically like every other member of his race would have; he was instead rigid and pale, his normally expressionless face a mask of agony and his eyes squeezed tightly shut. The doctor had been so shocked he had dropped the instruments he was holding and had only snapped out of it at Tanner’s harsh demand of, “Well?”

He’d quickly dialed a hypospray to deliver a dose of fast-acting anesthetic, interspersing apologies to the Vulcan with imprecations for not having said anything…which had wrung a low growl from the engineer. Even more surprising, Ezrastas had opened his eyes and turned a pleading look up at the long-haired man who was now supporting his slowly relaxing body. Tanner had nodded gravely. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, Ez. Won’t let nothin’ happen to ya.”

A wordless nod…and the Vulcan had gone limp against him, green eyes sliding closed again. Jackson had made certain that his patient was fully under the influence of the drug and had then demanded an explanation; the engineer had replied in a hard, clipped voice very unlike his usual laid-back drawl that the doctor’s business was taking care of the crew, not torturing them, and that he’d be sticking around until Ezrastas regained consciousness. And he had, despite Jackson’s protests that it wasn’t necessary.

Vin had never forgotten that incident; he didn’t think he ever would. The mistake was something he could have forgiven the doctor for – after all, Jackson hadn’t known that their Vulcan wasn’t like other Vulcans and Ezrastas couldn’t explain it to him so that really hadn’t been his fault. But what Vin couldn’t forgive was Jackson’s callous disregard for his lover’s well-being, and his continued assertions that Ezrastas was cold, unfeeling, and completely without a conscience. The doctor made the accusations as easily in the Vulcan’s presence as out of it, in front of crew and strangers alike, but because Ezrastas didn’t dare show how the cruel accusations affected him only Vin knew the damage that was being done. No, he couldn’t forgive, or forget. His enmity toward Jackson didn’t interfere with their working relationship, Vin wouldn’t let it, but he also knew that with each barbed comment he was rapidly approaching his breaking point where Dr. Jackson was concerned.

Ezrastas stirred in his arms, and Vin swore softly at himself for disturbing his lover’s rest; his exact thoughts might not be able to cross over their link into the Vulcan’s sleeping mind, but his agitation could and did – and had. Deliberately he turned his mind to a set of soothing warp acceleration calculations and tightened his hold on his lover, and was rewarded with a sleepy brush against his mind that tweaked the numbers into order without completely solving them before Ezrastas relaxed against him again with a faint sigh and settled into a deeper sleep. Vin sighed too, ruffling his lover’s light brown hair and making a mental effort to project love and the reassurance of protection. He wouldn’t let anything hurt his lover, not even himself.

 

Days slipped by and turned into weeks, but there was no sign of a needle ship anywhere in the quadrant and that made Captain Larabee extremely nervous. Their enemy – whoever it was – had made a bold statement when they attacked the _Outward Bound,_ and it didn’t sit right with him that there had been no apparent follow up. If anyone in Starfleet had heard anything they were playing it close, because even Kirk hadn’t been able to get any more information. Chris had even had Tanner get in touch with the various traders and salvage operators he knew, but no more needle ship attacks had happened since their own, reported or unreported. As a matter of fact things had gone back to being eerily quiet, almost like the quadrant was holding its breath, waiting for something to blow.

And Larabee feared that when it did, whatever it was, it was going to be big. But he never would have guessed that the fuse would be lit on his own ship.

Dr. Jackson was walking down one of the corridors on his way back to Sickbay when he heard the chief engineer’s laughter as well as another man’s, but he didn’t really think much about it until the second man spoke and then he stopped dead in his tracks. It sounded like Ezrastas, but… _laughing_? Vulcans didn’t laugh! And the voice he’d heard was rippling with mirth, a far cry from the measured tones of a staid Vulcan. Maybe something was wrong, maybe Ezrastas and Tanner had gotten into something that was making them giddy. That had to be it.

He charged around the corner, startling the two laughing men. And that was when things got even stranger; both officers immediately straightened and the laughter cut off like a switch had been thrown. Ezrastas’ wide, dimpled grin collapsed back into its usual Vulcan placidity and Tanner merely looked irritated…but Jackson had seen a flicker of something else in both of their eyes before they could conceal it.

Fear.

The doctor would reflect later – too late, unfortunately – that he should have heeded that frightened look and proceeded with caution, but at the time all he was thinking was that he’d encountered a problem that needed to be fixed. Ezrastas dodged his first grab but wasn’t able to avoid the second one, and Jackson noticed that he stiffened noticeably at the contact. “Dr. Jackson, unhand me at once.”

“After what I just heard? You’re coming to Sickbay right now…”

The Vulcan yanked his arm out of Jackson’s grip almost violently, and then Tanner was between them. “He ain’t goin’ anywhere,” the engineer snarled.

“There’s something wrong with him, he was smiling and laughing…”

“It is my guess our zealous physician believes you and I are under the influence of some euphoria-inducing substance,” Ezrastas told Tanner. “I can assure you, Doctor, this is not the case. Commander Tanner and I were engaging in a stress-relieving experiment, that is all. It was strangely…effective, for a short time at least.”

Jackson wasn’t letting it go that easily. “Vulcans don’t laugh!”

“Vulcans may laugh if they choose to do so,” the first officer countered evenly. “Simply because you have never encountered the phenomenon does not mean it does not occur.”

“And Ez isn’t like most other Vulcans, anyway,” Tanner said firmly. He was still planted defensively between the two other officers. “We’ve been over this, Dr. Jackson.”

“Yes, we have.” Jackson folded his arms across his chest stubbornly. “So why don’t you tell me why exactly that is and then we’ll all know what’s going on.”

“You do not need to know,” Ezrastas said at the same time Tanner stated, “It’s none of your business.” The engineer made a face and cleared his throat. “There’s nothing wrong with our first officer, Dr. Jackson, and he doesn’t need to go to Sickbay. Now why don’t you stop butting in where you don’t belong?”

Jackson released a frustrated sigh and shook his head. “Fine, have it your way,” he said flatly, and then turned and stomped back the way he’d come without a backward glance. He hadn’t given in, though; he knew something was wrong with Lieutenant Commander Ezrastas, and if neither one of the men who knew what it was would tell him he’d find out from his own sources. He still knew someone at the medical facility he’d trained at on Vulcan…

 

Larabee’s tension was still growing, and it had infected the rest of the ship. Everyone was jumpy, and he knew without asking Dr. Jackson – who had been caught up in some project and mostly unavailable for the better part of a week – that something had to give soon. He glanced over his shoulder at Sanchez, who was pretending to work on the security station across the bridge, and wondered what would happen if he just flat-out asked the man what he was doing; the security chief had been hanging around the bridge a lot over the past few days, and Larabee was beginning to wonder if he had just run out of things to do anywhere else. Or maybe Jackson had set him to watch one of them? The doctor had quit bugging him about Tanner, who was currently poking around in the entrails of one of the bridge’s tactical consoles, could Jackson have told Sanchez to keep an eye on the engineer when the captain kept refusing to do so? Or had Jackson put the security chief there as a sort of leash to hold back the famous Larabee temper that was supposedly running so close to the surface right now?

The captain frowned – mostly at Sanchez. He wasn’t that damned irritable. Yet, anyway. Maybe he and Jackson needed to have another little talk…

“Captain, we’re being hailed.” Dunne’s announcement broke through Larabee’s thoughts before he could properly begin to enjoy his little fantasy about taking out some of his irritation on the ship’s chief medical officer. “They say they’re rendezvousing with us to pick something up.”

“Pick something up? What?” Larabee asked. He just barely registered Sanchez getting out of his seat and crossing to the other side of the bridge, or the lift doors hissing open to admit Dr. Jackson. “Who is it, Lieutenant?”

“The _N’Shalla_ , sir – a Vulcan science vessel,” Dunne informed him…and then chaos erupted.

Sanchez, who had been advancing with caution, suddenly made a move to close in on Ezrastas, who had bolted up from his seat at the mention of the ship’s name. “Now son,” the big security man rumbled. “We know you didn’t want…”

“We!?” The look the green-eyed Vulcan shot around the bridge was one of complete betrayal. “You all…”

“It’s what’s best, Ezrastas,” Jackson said gravely. “Your people know what’s best for you, they’re taking you home.” The Vulcan shook his head, adopting an even more defensive stance, and Jackson sighed. “Josiah, just stun him. We don’t want him to hurt somebody, and it’ll be easier for the _N’Shalla_ to take him that way anyway…”

“Belay that!” Larabee snapped at Sanchez, snagging Tanner’s arm when the engineer would have rushed past him. “What the hell is going on here?!”

The distraction gave Ezrastas the opening he’d needed; before anyone could register what was happening, he had moved with Vulcan speed to yank the phaser out of Sanchez’ belt and dialed it up to the highest setting, backing up until the bulkhead was at his back. His usual placid expression had crumbled away, and behind it was revealed complete and utter terror. The phaser shifted from target to target, an attempt to cover everyone on the bridge. “I will not go back!” he yelled.

Larabee reacted, starting forward. “Ezrastas, I know you don’t want to hurt anyone…”

“No.” That was Tanner holding him back this time, looking sickened and angry and terrified all at the same time. “Captain, he’s not planning to use it on one of us. Ez,” he said, stepping in front of Larabee. “Ez, don’t do this. We won’t let them take you, I swear…”

“It’s for his own good, Vin,” Dr. Jackson countered in a low, firm voice. “There’s something wrong with him, they said he needs to go back…” 

“YOU STAY OUT OF THIS!” Tanner’s enraged yell shocked everyone on the bridge. “You bastard, you called them, didn’t you? You had no idea what was going on and you still don’t, do you have any idea what you’ve DONE?!” 

“What has he done, Vin?” Larabee wanted to know – he didn’t think he was going to be getting any answers out of his first officer. “You say he contacted the Vulcans, tell us what’s going on.”

“I will.” Tanner locked eyes with him, and the trust that was between them asserted itself. “But right now we don’t have time, we have to get this settled and get as far away from that Vulcan ship as we can, and we have to do it _now_.” He returned his attention to their first officer. “Ez, listen to me; I won’t let them take you, I won’t let anyone hurt you…”

“You can’t stop them, they’ll hand me over…”

“No, they won’t.” Tanner saw the green eyes flick towards Jackson and he scowled. “Especially not that one.” Then he flinched, putting a hand up to his head, and he met the Vulcan’s eyes again. “Ez, we’re mind-linked; if you kill yourself you’ll kill me too.”

Neither man acknowledged the gasps from the rest of the bridge crew. Ezrastas shook his head, the fear in his face now warring with sadness and…something else, something heartbreaking and wonderful at the same time. “I’ll…break the link, Vin. I wouldn’t hurt you, but I have to…”

“I know, I know.” Tanner’s voice was intimate, soothing. “But what if you can’t break it in time? My mind would follow yours, I’d die with you. Ez, trust me. Look into my mind, see what’s there right now.” The Vulcan’s face became a mask of concentration…which crumbled again almost immediately. “You would…”

“In a heartbeat,” the engineer told him. “If it comes to that, I won’t let you go alone. Wide dispersal, we’ll become part of the fabric of the universe together.”

The phaser clattered to the deck and the Vulcan followed it down to sit on the floor, tears beginning to pour from his green eyes; Tanner was immediately beside him, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. “Vin…”

“It’s okay, it’s all gonna be okay.” Tanner’s eyes met Larabee’s as he picked the fallen phaser up. “Captain?”

Larabee nodded, then whirled back into action; they were in a bad spot for a confrontation, too close to the restricted zone, and he knew he had to act fast and think about the consequences later. “Everyone back to your stations! Mr. Dunne, start broadcasting a Class One quarantine warning, all frequencies. Mr. Wilmington, get our shields up and keep them that way, full strength. Dr. Jackson…” His turquoise eyes narrowed, darkened. “Mr. Sanchez, I want you to take Dr. Jackson to his quarters and confine him there by my order, I’ll deal with his part in all this later – if there is a later.” He waited until the security chief had pulled the stunned doctor into the turbolift before attending to his last two officers. “Mr. Ezrastas…I need my first officer, if he’s available.”

The Vulcan’s head lifted, and his wet eyes were wide. “S-sir?” When Larabee nodded, he swallowed and with Tanner’s help regained his feet. “He is available, Captain Larabee.”

“Good, glad to hear it. Please return to your station, Mr. Ezrastas. And as for you, Mr. Tanner,” he went to his chair and dropped into it, “you are going to stand right here next to me and give me the short version of whatever the hell is going on so that I can decide what our next move should be.”

The engineer nodded. “I can do that, Cap’n.” He patted Ezrastas on the shoulder, the contact lingering, something passing between them…and then took up his position beside the captain’s chair. “You see, Captain, Ez isn’t your regular sort of Vulcan…”

 

A few hours later, Jim Kirk stalked into his ship’s main conference room and threw himself into a chair, scowling at the universe. “Before you ask, we still don’t have permission to follow them and find out just what the hell is going on,” he said disgustedly. “And for the record, if I disobey orders and go in anyway they’ll have me removed from command. Have we rendezvoused with the admiral’s ship yet, Spock?”

“Mr. Scott informed me that the admiral has been beamed aboard and is on his way to meet us, Captain,” Spock told him. “He should be here momentarily.”

“Let’s hope he’s here to explain things and not just to keep you toeing the line,” McCoy grumbled. “Do you think the needle ships came back?”

“No, they would have called us if that had happened – they knew we were hanging around just in case. But what else could possibly have driven them into the restricted zone?!” Kirk demanded, slamming his fist down on the table. “I know Chris Larabee, he’s not the type that panics and loses his head so something else must have forced him across that line!”

“I believe it may have been some _one_ , Captain.” Spock suddenly had their full attention. “The _N’Shalla_ was in that area at that same time and apparently on an intercept course with the _Outward Bound_. I believe it may have been to escape them that Captain Larabee took his ship into the restricted zone, as he knew they would not be allowed to follow him there.”

Kirk’s eyes narrowed. “And I suppose that now you’re going to tell me why a Federation captain is on the run from a Vulcan ship?”

“He’s protecting his first officer.” Admiral Travis was standing in the conference room door, scowling. He limped in and dropped into a chair near Kirk. “You won’t be able to verify it and don’t try, but the _N’Shalla_ was there to take Lieutenant Commander Ezrastas back to Vulcan – very much against his will.” He sighed at the looks Kirk and McCoy were giving him. “It’s a long story, gentlemen, but I’ll tell you this right now; the Federation can’t make this situation formal or even public, but Captain Larabee is saving his first officer from a fate much worse than death and even though we’re denying that the incident is occurring the Federation is behind him one hundred percent. Right now the _Outward Bound_ is listed as being on a top-level classified mission and anyone trying to check up on them is going to hit a brick wall with titanium spikes on it.”

The three Enterprise officers had risen to their feet when he entered, waiting for the older man to take his seat before resuming their own. “You must have been very close, to have rendezvoused with us to quickly, Admiral,” Spock observed.

“I was very close,” Travis agreed. He looked tired, tired and angry. “I was on my way to rendezvous with the _Outward Bound_ at Antares Station, I’d been tipped off that something might have hit the fan and I was hoping my presence could keep it from splattering all over.” He snorted, shaking his head. “I wasn’t fast enough, dammit. The Vulcans got there first.”

“Can you tell us why they were there at all?” Kirk ventured carefully. This smelled like more classified information, and even though he didn’t like it he knew the admiral might just be out here to cover Starfleet’s collective ass. “Did it have anything to do with the needle ship attack a few weeks ago?”

Travis shook his head. “I only wish it were that simple, Captain,” he said. He leaned forward to commandeer the viewing terminal and activate the comm. “Lieutenant,” he said crisply when Uhura responded from the bridge. “This is Admiral Travis. Open secure channel one-point-five-one-oh and patch it through to this terminal – do not log the transmission, on my authority.”

 _Aye, Admiral_ , Uhura’s smooth voice came back. _“It will take a few minutes to establish the connection…”_

“I know, Lieutenant – just patch it straight through when you do. Travis out.” The admiral sat back in his chair with a sigh. “Gentlemen, I’m sure you’re expecting me to throw some fancy doubletalk at you and leave you in the dark about what’s really going on. I have no intention of doing that, I assure you, but this really isn’t something we can just plunge right into.” He fixed a dark eye on McCoy. “Doctor, I believe you’d done some checking on Captain Larabee’s chief medical officer and his first officer a while back, at his request?”

“At mine,” Kirk jumped in. “I’d been staying in contact with Larabee since the needle ship attack, and when he mentioned a…situation between Dr. Jackson and Lieutenant Commander Ezrastas I asked Bones to check it out.”

“I’m still disturbed that someone with an established prejudice like Jackson’s slipped through Starfleet Medical’s screening,” McCoy elaborated. “He might have been all right on another ship, but it was a gross mistake on someone’s part to post him to the same ship Ezrastas was on. The lieutenant commander didn’t have a sickbay phobia before being posted to the Outward Bound.”

“No, no he didn’t.” Another, deeper sigh. “I’ve seen the report you made to Starfleet Medical, Doctor, and I have to admit I found the implications disturbing in the extreme. I put Ezrastas on board the _Outward Bound_ to keep him safe, I knew I could trust Larabee.” His expression twisted into a resigned grimace. “And I was right about that, for all the good it did me. From what we can gather, Dr. Jackson contacted Vulcan about a week ago, without Larabee’s knowledge, and turned over to them all of the lieutenant commander’s medical and personnel records.”

“What?!”

“Bones.” Kirk’s even tone was more a request for patience than a reprimand, and McCoy reigned himself back in. “We already knew there was a problem – and I passed on your warning to Chris, who also knew there was a problem and said he’d contact you if it got worse. There was nothing more we could have done.”

“No, I doubt there was,” Travis agreed. “Doubt there was anything Larabee could have done either, no one would have expected Jackson to conspire with the Vulcans like this, knowing how he apparently feels about them. But we’ll deal with him later, right now we need to discuss the information that he passed along…the information that sent the _N’Shalla_ out to forcibly remove a Starfleet officer from his ship. Mr. Spock doubtless already knows a good deal of what I’m about to tell you,” here he nodded to the Vulcan, who nodded back gravely, “but it’s not something anyone’s been allowed to talk about. If I make any mistakes, Mr. Spock, please feel free to correct me.” Spock nodded again, and Travis fixed his attention fully on Kirk and McCoy. “Lieutenant Commander Ezrastas is something the Vulcans call a Kashanik, a genetic throwback. They…” He faltered, frowning down at his hand on the table, one finger tapping against the dark surface. “They don’t allow them off planet, or allow any outsiders to see them. I doubt most Vulcans have ever seen one either, unless they…” another glance at Spock, this one apologetic, “know someone.”

“What the admiral is trying to say,” Spock elaborated, “is that only the upper echelons of Vulcan society have access to the Kashanik. When a child is born, if they are identified as genetically defective in this way they are at once removed from their parents and taken elsewhere. They are ‘non-people’ in Vulcan culture and therefore may be owned, if one can afford the price and agrees to keep the Kashanik’s presence in the household hidden from others.”

Kirk’s eyes widened. “You mean they keep them as…”

“Slaves, yes. Pleasure slaves, to be exact, although it is not always the kind of pleasure one might think.” Spock cleared his throat. “For some, the need to feel superior to another is a…guilty pleasure. Your culture of several hundred years ago had coined terms for it as a mild sexual deviation…”

“You mean a ‘kink’?” McCoy wanted to know, grimacing. “It’s normal for individuals to have those, Spock.”

The Vulcan nodded. “Yes, I am aware of that, Doctor. But unlike a fetishist on Earth, a Vulcan who desires such diversion is unbound by societal or legal control.”

“Because the Kashanik are ‘non-people’, no one cares what their owners do to them,” Travis simplified. “It’s the same path slavery took time and again on Earth until…well, until the Eugenics Wars forced us to grow up.”

“Sounds like the Vulcans never did,” Kirk observed. He could still barely believe what he was hearing. “How can a species as advanced as the Vulcans justify something like this, in this day and age? It doesn’t make any sense, it isn’t even logical!”

“I have often thought – and said – the same.” Sarek’s voice startled everyone; the Vulcan ambassador had appeared on the screen at the far end of the table, obviously put through on the secure channel Travis had requested. He almost smiled. “You have no need to look at me so, gentlemen; I have long opposed the…situation you are speaking of in the Vulcan council, which is one of the reasons I was appointed ambassador to your planet. Has Spock told you all?”

“No, Father.” That surprised Kirk – not because his first officer hadn’t given them all the details, but because he’d called Sarek ‘Father’, something he normally didn’t do unless his mother was present. “I thought it best…”

“You find it difficult to speak of, as do I,” Sarek interrupted him placidly. “I understand. I will explain the rest. Your conference room is secure, Captain Kirk?”

Now Kirk really had a bad feeling. “Yes, Ambassador.”

“Very well.” Sarek visibly composed himself. “I am sure my son and the admiral have told you that these unwanted children of Vulcan are genetic throwbacks to our barbaric past and so besides being a social embarrassment are considered threats to the genetic purity of our race. What I am certain they did not mention is that once these children have reached a certain stage of maturity they are sterilized and minor surgical alterations are made to them to mark them as Kashanik.”

“Mutilated,” Travis clarified bluntly. “So they can’t pass themselves off as normal Vulcans.”

“This is the secret shame of our race, although the High Council cannot be made to see how illogical and cruel this practice is,” Sarek intoned. “I do not know how your officer managed to escape, Admiral Travis, but he should consider himself extremely fortunate and I would be honored to meet him if the opportunity ever arises. He must be a remarkable individual.”

“Because he escaped?” Kirk wanted to know. “You sound like it’s never happened before.”

“It has not.” Did Sarek actually look…proud? Kirk was pretty sure he did. “The Kashanik compounds are remote and as the children raised there do not receive standard training they are not equipped to function outside of their protected environment.”

“Lieutenant Commander Ezrastas is remarkable in that he not only survived escaping, he also somehow mastered a convincing facsimile of traditional Vulcan behavior without any formal guidance,” Spock explained.

“The training a normal Vulcan child receives begins soon after birth and lasts many years,” Sarek elaborated.

“They mean it’s an act, Jim,” Travis explained. “He’s been pretending to be a normal Vulcan since the day he escaped, and I guarantee you that when he’s got his unusual coloring concealed you wouldn’t know there’s anything different about him – and even when he doesn’t most non-Vulcans who meet him just think he’s a half breed. No offense meant, Commander Spock, Ambassador.”

“None taken,” Sarek answered for them both, and Spock bowed his head. “You come closer to the truth than you know. The Council was prepared to brand my son as Kashanik before his birth; Spock was fortunate that he did not inherit his mother’s blue eyes or there would have been nothing I could do to stop it from happening. As it was his development was closely monitored for signs of abnormal deviance, and to protect him we had to make his formal training much more rigorous than was acceptable to me. Many times his mother suggested leaving Vulcan and taking our son to Earth…”

“Why didn’t you?” McCoy asked. “You said what was happening wasn’t acceptable to you.”

“We would not have been allowed to leave, Doctor,” Sarek said quietly, not offended. “The High Council guards their guilty secret most jealously, I am afraid.”

 

The meeting went on for a long time; there was no real action that could be taken so there was no real need to hurry. It was a delicate sociopolitical situation, one even Starfleet’s top diplomats couldn’t touch, so the Enterprise officers, the admiral and the ambassador took their time working out what little they could do for the crew of the _Outward Bound_ and setting that into motion. The head of Starfleet Medical was called into it at one point, also on a secure channel, as was Kirk’s own superior, Admiral Nogura. Information was gathered, messages recorded, instructions outlined. A course was laid in, taking _Enterprise_ close enough to the restricted zone to establish limited communication with their fleeing ship but not near enough to raise alarm in the Vulcans or anyone else – they knew the Romulans had to have noticed something going on so close to the Neutral Zone by now, and there were still the needle ships to consider.

That was one good thing that had come of the mess; the needle ships had actually made it easier for Starfleet to explain Captain Larabee’s entrance into the restricted zone, and the _Outward Bound’s_ classified mission was ‘officially’ an expedition to find a way to stop the alien technology that was keeping Starfleet and its allies hostage to their blackmail by the needle ships’ creators. It was possible Larabee might just find something, too, and if he did they all knew he’d find a way to bring it back, even if it meant leaving Lieutenant Commander Ezrastas behind somewhere to keep him safe. Unfortunately, they had little hope that Starfleet’s diplomats could even open up a dialog with Vulcan on the taboo subject of the Kashanik, much less hammer out any sort of workable arrangement with regards to it.

And until they did, the _Outward Bound_ wouldn’t, couldn’t, come home.

 

Dr. Nathan Jackson sat in his quarters and stewed. He’d been sitting there for a long time now, with the door on a security lockout and his comm cut off, so stewing was about all he had to do. The ship’s Klaxon had gone off at one point, scaring him half to death, and not long after he was pretty sure they’d gone to warp. But where were they going?   To Antares Station? Or had they been ordered back to Starfleet Headquarters? He could only hope Larabee wasn’t chasing the Vulcans, trying to get Ezrastas back from them; it was quite possible that they’d beamed him right off the bridge, since Jackson had worried that the captain might not hand his first officer over without a fight and had provided the N’Shalla with the codes necessary to get through the _Outward Bound’s_ shields. He thought he might be in some trouble for that on down the road, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that he was acting in Ezrastas’ best interests; the Vulcan needed to be with his own kind, they knew how to take care of him, and if they said he had to go back to Vulcan permanently then that was just the way it was. Larabee could get another first officer, it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Of course, Captain Larabee might not feel that way…which was probably why he’d left Nathan down here to stew this long. It had been nearly eight hours now since Sanchez had escorted him to his quarters and locked him in. He got to his feet with a sigh, intending to try the door again even though he knew it was still locked. Maybe he could yell through it, let the security man outside know that he was hungry, maybe get the man to tell him what was going on.

The door slid open without warning, and Jackson looked up into his captain’s hard turquoise-green eyes. He was prepared to be yelled at, reprimanded…but what he wasn’t prepared for was Larabee grabbing him and all but throwing him up against the nearest wall. “I told you to leave it alone,” he growled. “I told you not to get into it, that if Starfleet had a problem with him he wouldn’t be here. And so what did you do? You called up Vulcan and told them all about it, you even sent them his records!”

The doctor found his voice. “He’s sick…”

“If he was sick don’t you think they would have told you how to treat him, Doctor? Don’t you think they would have sent you at least _some_ information on the disease he’s supposed to have, maybe even explained why you never picked up on it before?” Larabee pushed him against the wall again. “We checked your files and the communications logs, they gave you _nothing_ , nothing at all, and yet you were still ready to just hand my first officer over to them without a word to anyone!” He abruptly backed off, giving the impression that if he didn’t he might lose control. “He’s a genetic throwback, something called a Kashanik, and they wanted to drag him back to Vulcan to be sterilized and then marked so that he couldn’t pass himself off as a ‘normal’ member of their race. They keep them as slaves, Doctor, and I don’t mean slaves that do manual labor.”

“Vulcans aren’t like that.” Nathan was sure of himself. “He’s delusional…”

“Tanner isn’t,” Larabee spat. “The traders know about the Kashanik, Vin said Ezrastas is the first one he’s ever heard of that escaped mutilation. You wondered why my first officer has been so afraid to be alone with you in Sickbay? It’s because he knew you’d worked on Vulcan and he was afraid you’d figure it out and start cutting on him. Tanner is the only one he trusts on board this ship.”

That actually hurt, delusion or not. “I would never…”

“He had no way of knowing that and neither did Vin.” The captain wasn’t really softening, but he wasn’t yelling any more and Nathan took that as a good sign. “They don’t trust you and right now neither do I. Because you didn’t follow my orders this ship is now officially on a top secret mission in the restricted zone and the brass doesn’t know if we’ll ever actually get to come back.” He let the full impact of his words sink in before explaining. “Starfleet _knows_ , Dr. Jackson – and what they didn’t know, the Vulcan ambassador to Earth was happy to fill in for them. It’s probably the last communiqué we’ll see from home for quite a while, but I think it says something that they made space in it to quote Ambassador Sarek as saying that if we ever do make it back he would be honored to meet Lieutenant Commander Ezrastas…and shake his hand.”

Nathan was dumbfounded. “He actually said that? He confirmed this crazy story?”

The captain stiffened. “You’re confined to quarters until I decide I can trust you to resume your responsibilities,” he said. “Your comm has been disabled and the computer has you under full surveillance, if you so much as sneeze in the direction of trying to do any more damage to my ship or my crew Sanchez will be down here before you’ve had time to wipe your nose. Do we understand each other, Doctor?”

“I’m a Starfleet officer and a citizen of Earth, I have rights,” Nathan attempted. “You can’t just lock me up like this without a trial or any sort of recourse.”

“Starfleet said I could,” was the grim rejoinder, much to the doctor’s shock. “And while I’m passing on messages from them, you might also be interested to know that you’ve been demoted to the rank of Lieutenant courtesy of Admiral Travis – he was one of the people who’d been helping Ezrastas hide from the Vulcans, he had him assigned to the _Outward Bound_ to keep him safe.”

The doctor tried again. “But how could I have known all this? I was just doing my job, dammit!”

Larabee’s eyes grew even colder. “You disobeyed my orders, disregarded the chain of command, breached ship’s security and violated a whole handful of Starfleet regulations; I’ve got news for you Doctor, the leeway you had as Chief Medical Officer did not in any way, shape or form allow you to do any of that and you knew it. The only thing that saved you from being stripped of rank completely was that this ship is on its own now and we can’t _not_ have a doctor.” He moved back to the door and it slid open, framing him in a square of harsh light. “You just think about that, Jackson. Forty-eight people on board this ship may never go home again because you wouldn’t leave well enough alone.”

And then he was gone, and the hiss of the closing door was loud and shockingly final. Nathan sat for a minute, staring at it, and then moved to his personal console and called up his messages. There were several…but at the top and marked priority was one from Admiral Travis. He hesitated and then opened it. It was concise and blistering; Travis had spelled out exactly what he’d done in such graphic detail that the doctor felt sick. If they ever did get to go back he’d be court martialed, all the charges the captain had spat at him and then some. The succeeding messages were less accusatory but equally upsetting, routine notices from Starfleet Command and Starfleet Medical of his demotion to lower rank and of the details of his current probationary status due to the present unfeasibility of court martial. Nathan finally threw himself down on his bunk and stared at the ceiling, unable to take in any more. His career was over, everything he’d worked for destroyed, and much as he wanted to blame the Vulcan, all the Vulcans…the doctor knew it was his own fault. Chris had warned him, Vin had warned him, and he should have listened to them and not his perfection-driven curiosity. But it was too late for ‘should haves’ now, far too late.

 

Sanchez watched the security monitor and sighed. This was a disaster, plain and simple – and from a security standpoint it was a nightmare. The ship’s chief medical officer was on twenty-four hour surveillance and confined to his quarters unless it was an emergency, at which point he could only be allowed out under guard. And the first officer was a fugitive being hunted by his own people in the name of racial purity, which meant that their former allies the Vulcans were now their enemies and that security measures opposite those taken for Jackson would have to be put in place for Ezrastas. Not to mention that they were currently heading deeper into an area of space that had no doubt been restricted for a very good reason. Josiah knew he had messages waiting for him that would doubtless explain some of what he might need to expect but he wasn’t ready to plunge into it all just yet; he needed time to make the mental adjustment between what his job had been this morning and what it would be for the foreseeable future. One of the messages was from the _Enterprise_ , though…he opened it and scanned the contents, then his long face broke out in a smile. A full security report and all pertinent ship’s logs relating to the restricted zone, along with a message from Commander Spock regarding the best ways to deal with Vulcans. The personal message was pure treason, every word, and he committed it to memory before destroying it just in case, his smile growing even broader.

 

Larabee, back in his quarters, saved the file he’d just finished reading and opened the next, the one he knew was from Kirk. Starfleet’s youngest captain’s face came up on the small screen, looking tired. “Chris,” he said. “Wish we could have done this in person, but that wasn’t possible. We didn’t want them to get a fix on you by keeping a channel open.” He shook his head. “Hard to believe that just a few weeks ago we were discussing this like it wasn’t really a problem, isn’t it? We thought the problem was the needle ships.” Kirk snorted softly. “McCoy is kicking himself hard right now for not foreseeing that this could have happened, especially for not talking to Spock about it earlier – Spock knows about the Kashanik, his father said they were ready to write him off that way before he was even born. I can’t believe we never knew about this…issue the Vulcans have with racial purity, but it certainly explains a few things about them, doesn’t it? It’s one hell of a dirty little secret they’ve been keeping all this time.” He cleared his throat. “Well, enough of that. Chris, I can’t even pretend to understand what you’re going through right now, but I wanted you to know that we’re all behind you in spirit even if we can’t back that up in the flesh for a while. And I wanted you to know that in spite of what the doomsayers at Starfleet Command have probably told you, we _will_ find a way to get you all home, you have my word. But until then…I know you’re probably worrying about what you’re going to run into out there, so we sent along all our logs, the classified ones and all the reports that don’t exist that go with them.” Kirk winked. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but some of them are a lot of fun to read.” He sobered again almost immediately, though. “I know you won’t be able to see this right now, Chris, but you’re embarking on a great adventure and so is your crew, and that sense of adventure is what’s going to pull you through this situation in one piece – trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

The message spooled on, but Larabee wasn’t listening to it any more. He was looking out his window, looking at the stars that punctuated this ‘great adventure’ he’d never had any desire to experience and wishing, just this once, that he was more like Jim Kirk.

 

Spock stepped in through the door of the small observation lounge and quietly approached the man sitting slumped in front of the vast starfield. “Captain.”

Kirk didn’t look back at him. “Come to check on me, Mr. Spock?”

“Yes.” Spock didn’t see any reason to deny it, and he knew he’d been correct when Kirk chuckled softly and shook his head. Normally jarring their young captain out of one of his potentially self-destructive introspective moods would have fallen to Dr. McCoy, but the doctor was dealing with his own demons at the moment. “You are thinking about Captain Larabee, correct?”

“I’m thinking there but for the grace of God, Mr. Spock,” Kirk answered tiredly. “I’m wondering how the hell we’re going to get the _Outward Bound_ back when no one can even talk about why they’re gone in the first place. And I’m very much afraid that if we can’t figure out a way before too much time passes…”

“That Captain Larabee may be facing a mutiny if his crew decides it is better to hand Lieutenant Commander Ezrastas over to the Vulcans than to remain in exile indefinitely,” Spock finished for him placidly. “I believe that is what the High Council is counting on as well, Captain. But I do not believe that will occur. The crew of the _Outward Bound_ is as loyal as the crew of the _Enterprise_ , there will be no mutiny while Captain Larabee remains in command.”

“‘While’ being the key word, Spock.” Kirk sighed and propped his head on his hand, staring out at the stars. “Anything could happen out there, anything.”

Spock moved to stand just behind his captain’s chair. “You did what you could.”

“I just hope it was enough.” Kirk looked up at the Vulcan sadly. “He’s not like me, Spock, he’s just not an explorer. I’m not sure the advice I had to give was anything that could help him through this.”

“Perhaps not, but the fact that you cared enough to extend what help you had to offer no doubt will be comforting to him in and of itself,” Spock assured him. He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Jim, there was nothing you could have done to prevent this chain of events from occurring, nor was there anything Dr. McCoy could have done – as Mr. Scott is no doubt assuring him at this very moment.”

Kirk arched an eyebrow over one hazel eye, a gesture he’d picked up from Spock. “Bones will have a hangover from Hades tomorrow, then – and you realize they’ll both be saying ‘damn Vulcans’ this and ‘damn Vulcans’ that for at least a week?”

“Were I prone to swearing in the human fashion, I might be tempted to join them in their sentiments,” the Vulcan intoned gravely. “The actions undertaken by my people in this incident have been inexcusable and not at all befitting a supposedly advanced race.”

“All races have their dirty little secrets,” was Kirk’s reply. “Look what we were investigating before this happened; how many people have been killed in needle ship attacks over the past forty years while Starfleet has been pretending to anyone who asked that the threat didn’t exist?”

“One hundred fourteen,” Spock answered him. Kirk made a face at him, and the Vulcan allowed the barest hint of a smile to grace his saturnine features. “You did ask.”

“I did.” Kirk stood up, took one last look out the viewport and then turned his back on the stars and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Join me for a nightcap, Spock? I have about two shots of Saurian brandy left in that bottle Bones got me for my birthday, and I’d…really rather not drink alone tonight.”

The Vulcan inclined his head in a gracious gesture of agreement, privately thinking that the powerful effects of the alien brandy would be ideal for ensuring that the younger man slept this night. “I would be honored, Jim.”

 

Vin lay on his bunk staring at the ceiling, one arm wrapped around his lover in a tight, protective embrace. The Vulcan’s ear rested over his heart as it usually did, but the cooling heat of his tears on the engineer’s skin was a new and unwelcome addition to their usual routine; Ezrastas had cried himself to sleep in his lover’s arms. He blamed himself for what had happened, blamed his own inability to handle the situation with the ship’s doctor for effectively exiling the crew of the _Outward Bound_ …blamed himself for being defective. Vin had offered comfort and cried right along with him, sharing his lover’s hurt over their link, sending his love back in return to soothe the pain. Starfleet was behind them, Chris was behind them, he had to believe that it would be all right. It had to be all right.

And if it wasn’t…they would leave, and the _Outward Bound_ could go back home without them.


End file.
